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Show in my father's house/ 137 I blinked and glanced around, remembering my terror. I jumped up; the boulevard was quiet. I wondered if I had dreamed about the marching skeletons. I threw my arms around my mother and hugged her desperately. "What's wrong?" she asked, looking into my face. After the first rush of relief, I felt sheepish, and said it was too hot to sleep inside. We stood for a minute, looking down at the boulevard. "Did you see all the people, Mama?" She nodded. "Is it Halloween in Mexico?" She chuckled and her eyes were shining. "No, dear. It's called Pentecost. The people parade their sins before the city and ask for forgiveness. That's why they wail and beat each other, to show their sorrow and to get rid of their bad deeds. They believe it will drive evil from the city." Suddenly I was afraid again. "Is there evil here, in Monterrey?" "I guess there is evil everywhere, Jeannie. But in spite of the strange ways, I suppose there's no more here than anywhere else." She led me inside. That night I could not sleep until I had cried for my father -- just a bit, and softly into my pillow, so that my mother wouldn't hear. |